The Aftermath
by thepriceofbutter
Summary: The final moments of the Time War, and Nine's first day.   First fanfiction story ever, so reviews would be very helpful.
1. Chapter 1

I knew I had minutes at the most before I was gone. The pain in my chest was too much, and I had barely managed to make it back to the TARDIS. The war had reached it's peak, and I knew this was the end. The signal came, and I helplessly surrendered. Using the last of my strength, I slammed my fist down on the tiny device, the thing that ended my world, now routed into the heart of my beautiful ship. There was a furious shudder, so intense I could not see, only white and black flashing in front of my eyes, accompanied by a noise, fifty times louder than the most destructive thunderstorm, I was thrown around the room, up, down, and sideways. So fast was my position changing that there was no way on God's earth the gravitational stabilizer could work properly, though the old girl was never one for defeat. Instead I found myself suddenly suspended between ceiling and floor (the console was above me at this point), and, for a few precious moments I looked at the scanner, watching as Gallifrey burned. I would be protected, of course, the detonator was programmed to place the TARDIS in a time bubble, forcing me to look upon the consequences of my actions. Then I was no longer frozen, instead flying around the room hitting floor, ceiling, walls, ceiling again, the vision of my home burning in my eyes. The time bubble did not protect me from the turbulence of two entire races being erased from time. Then my head slammed into a particularly hard edge, my chest flared, and all was lost.

As the cool air brushed my face, confusion was there. Millions of emotions swirled, each a noise, a voice. Every thought was screaming, clamoring to be recognized. I did not know, couldn't concentrate. I felt amusement, depression, warmth, and shame all at once. Then came the memories: there was a boy, dancing the waltz. Seconds later, I saw the same youthful face wracked with pain, and as the light slowly drained from those brown eyes, droplets appeared on the tip of his nose. They were tears. My tears. Another time, so long ago: adrenaline was rushing through my veins, and I was running, running away from my past. There were noises, lights, sounds but I didn't care, I had to get away. _That's what started every-thing, isn't it?_ A voice rang out, but was lost instantly amidst the din and clutter of this world around me

In another part of my mind, emotions were running wild. A tornado of feelings, always changing, so fast I couldn't get a grip on reality. It felt like…. I wasn't _there_, like I had no substance, and what was happening was a twisted lottery, like my entire character was being chosen for me. Thousands of emotions, each one being tested for a matter of seconds, than thrown away and switched out for the next option. My life was being processed. Bits of it were taken, and added to the pile that was to be me. The other things, my past morals, values, and even logistics were thrown away, forgotten, now to be looked upon by the new man that was to be walking around. To him, to me now, they were idiotic follies, not rational and never real.

As to who I actually was during these points in-between dying and living, I never know. In these periods, I look back on all my life without judgment, like a bystander, or an undertaker, silently working to bring a body to its final resting place. I suppose, in a way, I was at a funeral. My own.

The mind is a delicate thing, and it always keeps the same core, the same substance. A ten year old and a twenty year old may think differently, but they are still the same at heart. I, who has lived more than most, am proof of this. Losing the thing makes me _me_, my sanctum santorum, scares me. No one can look, ever should look, back on their lives without feeling. Without remembering the anguish of death, the tenderness of love. The thought that, I become a stone, even for a short time, is one of the nightmares that keep me awake each night.

This rebuilding, regeneration, brings not only a mental battle, but physical agony. Every atom in my body is changing, not only being healed, but replaced. New DNA, because regeneration only comes into play when I am faced with the ultimate price: death. The feeling is excruciating. First, the old body physically dies. Then, the shell is pieced back together, only with new traits and components. Bones shatter, then regrow. Sinew decays, only to be refitted, perhaps with a more muscular build. Skin is stretched on, hair grows, but everything is different. New face, new style, new me. The pain is incomprehensible. I knew I was screaming, even though I could not hear.

_ Some_ rational part of my mind knew that the entire process took only a few milliseconds. It had happened before, this starting-over of sorts. I know that it would all be dead and done in a flash of golden light, but this time, it was different.

Behind all this, there was deep hatred, of what, I couldn't say

Finally after an eternity of pain and memories, if they are indeed separate, it was over. I was falling, falling…

I awoke to a silence that was utterly complete. It weighed down, crushing me beneath its sheer mass. I felt lethargic, but strangely, excited. Sort of like the feeling when you just wake up and realize it's your birthday. It wasn't a happy feeling, but an energetic one. For a time I was unmoving, pondering the strange new world around me. The wind blowing across my face, bits scratchy grass rubbing my fingertips, the teeth in my mouth. I felt reborn. I was not conscious of time, it could have been hours, minutes,even days. I just lay there, trying to relish the experience, and fruitlessly ignoring itching notion that something was off. I can't explain it, but roughly, it's like your fear of the dark. Everyone has it at some point, but you don't know what's causing it, so it gets pushed away, forgotten. (It's actually the Vashta Nirada, what you're scared of, but that's a different story) For, yes, it was serene, the atmosphere around me calming, but the silence of the place was to strong, to absolute. Something was missing, something vital. In my fogged state, it was hard to focus on my thoughts, everything floating around in bits and phrases.

I drew in a deep breath, and feeling my hearts' beat slow reassured me somewhat._ What was that Romana said?,_ I wondered, trying to recall... _Oh yes,'one for causal, one for best' _I chuckled into the empty air, my new voice sounding strange to my new ears. _I liked Romana, even if she was young. I'm glad she wasn't all stuffed up like all those other pompous leaders of our planet are. Were,_ the thought changed unexpectedly floating up from within my consciousness._ Now why did I say that? _Doing the equivalent of a mental shrug, my ramblings continued:_ I liked Tegan too, funny she was with that accent of hers. Always pronouncing Turlough's name 'Tarlow' . Ah, Australians. Mind you, nothing like the Silurians, now __**those**__ sounded like a sewer drain on Karmidian 5 being cleaned, then immediately re-clogging, with the all the hair on a Yeti.__ Jamie, of course, would be the one to shave the yeti to get the hair itself, and...What was that before? Oh, jelly babies why can't I remember? It's important,vital, something that changes the course of entire universe forever, but what,... Turlough, of course! I liked him as well, brilliant boy...man. And that hair! I wonder if this new regeneration is ginger? That would be fantastic, never been ginger before. Nothing too bright mind you, I don't really fancy being a member of the Red-Headed league. Oh I must visit_ _Sir_ Arther_, see how he's coming along. Hope he hasn't __started writing vampire romance novels again. The world does not need that. Thank Rassilon I went and burned them all. Rassilon... No, My hair would be the color of the autumn leaves, a bit darker, maybe. The trees. Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree... Birds. _There were no birds, no crickets, no animals of any kind. _Why?_ As soon as I realized this, the smell of fresh flowers, slowly turned sickly sweet, and all too soon was gone, obscured by a foul stench; it smelled salty, of rust, and made my stomach clench in disgust. It put me in the mind of tears, screams, and hopelessness. I tried to forget the smell, to fall back into the blissful state of unknowing, but could not. Behind my eyes the world was scarlet.

My eyes shot open and I sprang up with a yell. Every muscle my body was immediately a stretched rubber band, seconds from snapping. Chest heaving, breaths flowing in gushes, my head was snapping around in, what I can now say for sure, an uncharacteristic moment of paranoia. A gasp of air escaped, shaky and hesitant, as if some devilish fiend was lurking in the surrounding hedges, waiting for just the right moment to pounce. May_be that's he reason all the animals have gone. __**He **__chased them away._ _No, no, it's me_. I realized sinking down to a sitting position. _He is me, no, Lee is me, me is who, who is he, he is she and dog is fish, _mindlessly reciting an old riddle I had heard as a child.

I felt sick, inside and out. Looking down at my clothes, I saw that I was still in my armor, a bulky suit, designed for defense, and full body, with boots to go on over what could only be described as 'feetie' pants. A crackle in my left ear reminded me, my communicator, of course. It was built to withstand then modify in the event in regeneration should occur, which is why I didn't notice at first. It was a perfect fit, no matter whose ear it was in. It seemed like it had not survived my escapade however, it kept sparking, which, to my newly repaired nervous system, was extra shocking.

Yanking it out of my ear, I fumbled with the buttons for a moment, before I pressed in the right sequence.

"Hullo? Hullo!" I spoke into the minuscule microphone, voice breaking, praying for a reply. "Drax ? Wut's the situation? This is Theta Sigma. I've regenerated." No sound came through "Drax, where's the president. Drax? DRAX?" Static.

Yelling in pure frustration, I chucked the communicator across the clearing. It bounced once, then skidded to a halt at the base of some species of tree, Willow possibly. I have never gone back to know for sure. I remember thinking, _I have an accent! What is it now, Traken? __No, more like Scottish, a Northern of sorts._

The smell of blood, which had first dragged me into cruel reality, was now permeating throughout the clearing. My uniform was covered with it. Most of it seemed to be centered around my chest, and, upon closer inspection, it revealed a circler hole, about three inches in diameter, and right over my left heart. It looked strange, such clear skin surrounded by all that red.

"Well, tha' solves one question" I spoke gruffly. It was certainly not the worst way to die, although it was the second body in a row that had died by being shot, even if this time it was by laser. I was somewhat disappointed by this, but at least this time I didn't wake up in a hospital morgue. I scared that guard to, ahem, death.

Feeling disgusted and weary, I set about stripping off my uniform, and this was the first time I took notice of my new body, specifically my hands.

They were large and calloused, my reflexes were quick, and scenes sharp, though with my kind that's somewhat of a given. Judging by what I could see, I thought possibly late forties, which wasn't that bad, considering my real age. Then, realization washed over me. I had the body of a retired soldier. How fitting. A body born in battle looked of battle. I also noticed that I was still wearing my old clothes, thrust so suddenly into the war that was raging on Gallifry. _How long ago was that? Feels like years._ Once so elegant, the pants were ripped, the waistcoat, aside from being several sizes to small, was falling off in shreds, and the ascot hung limply around my neck. The hole from the laser had turned the shirt to a frayed mess, and everything was covered in a cold sweat.

"What possessed 'im to wear this?" I said, exasperated. "That pretty boy, Gods." I suddenly thought of my home, of a conversation that I had with Romana before...

"Whatever happens you mustn't hesitate," she said with her usual confidence. That was one thing that had never changed.

"But what about you, what about the planet?, I couldn't possibly-"

"The time for fighting is done. We have nearly lost, and must act, do whatever we can to destroy them. And that includes this," She held out a switch, the classic big red button, in the middle of a gray square. "I know you recognize this."

"A bit boring isn't it? The red self destruct button" I replied nervously. Then, half begging, half demanding"There has to be another way!"

" We're working on something, but if I give you the signal, don't question it. I know you, but you can't disobey this order."

"Romana-"

She held up a hand, cutting off my pleas, a thoughtful look coming over her face. "You were the one who first called me that do you remember? I insisted on being addressed that dreadful name, and you said" she giggled "you said, 'It's either Romana or Fred!' Oh, I was so young then, barely 125, and strutting around like I knew everything in the cosmos."

She suddenly looked straight into my eyes, her face steeled with fierce determination. "I'm not 125 anymore, you have to trust me."

"Madam President, you're needed immediately in the counsel room!" A soldier burst into the chamber.

" Goodbye Doctor, and thanks for letting some of the air out of my big head. Do it, if you have to," Standing on tiptoes, she kissed my cheek and then was gone.

With that, I broke. Sank to my knees, and cried. I had done it, burned the planet. Everyone was gone. Never again would I see the red grasses and purple mountains, feel the heat of twin suns. Never return home against my will, to face whatever thing I had done this time. To repair the TARDIS, in the best garages in the galaxy. The TARDIS! I had forgotten, she must be damaged.

With much effort, I got up and began to trudge through the forest, my resolve hardened. A few minutes away I found her, standing tall. She was the blue box, of course, probably changed back as a comfort to me. I still don't know if that chameleon circuit ever actually broke. Breathing a sigh of relief, I took out the key, fitted, and turned it. The door would not open.

"Come on old girl, don't be like tha'!" She was undoubtedly repairing herself. Even so, I wanted to get in, to surround myself in the remnants of my people. _Would my TARDIS change as well?_ There had been some repairs, modifications, sure, but it had always been, with the exception of those last few months at war, the same white console room, my only home in all the universe. It would be odd, seeing a new theme, but then again, I had done it eight times and she never complained.

I wandered back to my clearing, found the communicator, stared it it, then threw it with all my might at a tree. It shattered. In a stooper, I settled down for the night.

I don't remember thinking anything at all during that time, a lost shell, filled up by only grief and anger. I had killed all of them. I was the last one. A few times I caught myself stroking the sides of my face, as if to brush back my last regeneration's wavy brown hair. It was then I decided that I didn't want to know my new face, the face of the murderer. It was cold, the chill finding its way into every little space my frail clothes allowed, burying in my bones and hiding there. Even with this, I would not put my uniform back on. Never again would I dress in an outfit of war.

Near dawn, the thought struck me: I could take my own life. It would be easy enough, there are plenty of things in the ship. But, no, I would just live again, as another new man. And my life would be a waste, I added unintentionally Then, seemingly out of nowhere, another thought struck me. Even now I do not know the cause of my sudden change of hearts, perhaps my subconscious was brooding on it all night. Nevertheless, I'm glad. The thought was thus:

_No, I'll live_. _I'm a danger to others, and I don't deserve it, I never will, not after this, but I'll live._ With that, I walked zombie-like back to The TARDIS. I was right, she had changed. An orange glow was now coming from the console, filling the whole room. I set the coordinates, Earth, England, South Hampton harbor, April 10, 1912. I had killed hundreds, and now I was going to save as many as I could, bit by bit. I could never repent fully, and I saw myself as a monster, but I owed that much to the universe.

With my new morals set, and my post-regeneration crisis over, I sighed, left the center room, and went to walk among the many halls, last of the Time Lords, now and forevermore.


	2. Disclaimer

Disclaimer: In no way is Doctor Who mine, and you should probably be glad it isn't, with all the insanity I would doubtless imput.


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